First Meeting
by mariteri
Summary: Hermione Granger and Raymond Reddington meet for the first time, as only these two can. Rated T for language and violence.


**Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, The Blacklist, or any of their characters. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.**

**Here's another Harry Potter/Blacklist crossover one-shot! Enjoy!**

**Please read and review.**

**…**

**First Meeting**

Red sat at the bar, waiting for an associate to come meet him when she caught his eye. Petite, standing at little over five foot, three inches tall, she had attempted to restrain her wild brown curls in a knot at the back of her head. Attempt, he thought, had been the key word as strands of untamed curls were haloing her face. She was wearing a designer suit—Dior, if he didn't miss his guess. The light blue and cream tweet hugged her curves and allowed enough of her leg to appeal to the eye, but enough cover to keep her respectable. She took one look at the barstool with amber eyes the color of the finest single malt and he could tell she had already had one hell of a day. Her heart shaped face was slightly smudged, giving her a look of someone that had been through too much travel on too little sleep.

She looked over to the bartender and said, "Do you have Daliohinnie?" she asked him, her soft rich English accented voice calling Red's attention all the more to the woman.

"That we do, ma'am," the blond man behind the bar said.

"Top shelf?" she inquired.

"Of course," he replied.

"Very well," she said. "I want exactly an ounce and a half of Daliohinnie in a Glencairn whiskey glass, a half an ounce of a new bottle of European bottled spring water—and it had better not be Perrier. In other words, no bubbles."

"Is that all, ma'am?"

"For the moment," she answered, moving the barstool back in order to get up on it Red was sure.

He got up and went over to her. "May I be of assistance?"

She looked to the stool and to him. "Yes, I could use it."

He lifted her easily, putting her onto the stool. "You're underweight."

"And you're observant," she murmured. "Yes, I've been struggling to regain weight. It's nothing that you wish to hear about, I'm sure…" An old fashioned glass of scotch and a small bottle of water locally bottled. She picked up the glass, inspecting it. She looked back over to the bartender. "Do I look like a fool to you?" The smile on the man's face dropped at her words. "Really, do I?"

"No, ma'am," he said tightly.

"And yet you must have as not only didn't you get me the drink I asked for, you also served it in the wrong glass and with a locally sourced water," she pointed out. "You served me an ounce and a half of Jack Daniels in an old fashion glass with locally sourced water on the side. So either you thought I was a complete dolt or you don't know how to do your job." His face went ruddy at those words. "So which is it?"

"I don't have to put up with this," the man behind the bar said snidely. "I reserve the right to not serve anyone I don't want to."

"Good for you," she murmured. "And I reserve the right to punch you in the nose over very poor service that if it had been done correctly I would have gladly paid well for."

"I should call the cops!" he exclaimed.

"Whatever for?" she asked him, worrying her lower lip. "Was what I said a threat?

"Technically? Yes, my dear, I do believe that it was," Red answered smoothly from next to her.

She winced at that. "I do try not to do as much. Threats not done correctly can be so tacky."

"I feel the very same," Red told her, smiling at her.

"I attribute such to having had such a bad day so far," she admitted. She hopped down from the stool, walking around to the other side of the bar. "All I had wanted was my Daliohinnie, a quiet corner in which to drink it, and be on my way." She kicked the bartender in the balls. "But I was given swill, as if it were what I had ordered." She picked up the glass with the Jack and dumped it on the man's head. "And chances are he's done such before thinking that no one could possibly tell the difference." She pulled him up by his hair, looking him straight in the man's now scared grey eyes and said, "Hello Draco." She removed his wand from him before he could do so. "Long time, no see."

"I don't…know what…"

She slapped his face. "I know it's you. I have informants that told me as such."

The man's face fell. "I don't know where he is!"

"Right," she murmured. "And I'm supposed to take your word for it?" She pulled out pictures from her pocket and shoved them in his face. "Go on! Look at what he did!"

It was with shaking hands that he took the pictures from her, gagging at the sight. "He killed them. They were innocent, Draco. They hadn't a clue what your father was, but because he hated who and what they were…Well, you can see what he did."

The man looked about ready to vomit.

"Where is he?" she pressed. "Tell me and I just might let you walk away from me."

"Last I heard he was in France…"

She grabbed his right hand and proceeded to dislocate his finger making him scream. "You're taking me for a fool again, Draco. Where is he?"

"You're a sick bitch!" he screamed at her.

"If I am that, you can look into a mirror to find the cause," she replied. "Tell me before I decide to break off something you might need. And let me remind you that we may have two different ideas of what you may very well need."

"Los Angeles!" he cried, as her hand pulled at his hair all the more.

Just then five men came into the bar and proceeded to take Draco Malfoy, the former scion of the Malfoy family, into custody.

"Excuse me," the man that had helped her up onto the stool. "Does this mean that the bar is closed? I have business to conduct and the man I was to meet is running late."

She thought that over. "Is it very important business?"

"I think so," he murmured.

"Give me a few moments and I'll see what I can do," she told him.

"Thank you," he said quietly, watching her as she walked over to one of the men that had come into arrest the bartender. He listened to what she had to say and he nodded.

She left the bar and a few minutes later was dressed casually, going behind the stick and began pulling a pint.

"Hope you don't mind, but a few of the lads want to get something to drink," she told him. "Never fear. We'll mind our own."

"Like I did?" he asked, making her smile at that.

"Better than that I hope," she replied. "Care for a refill?"

"God no! This coffee was awful," he told her.

She took the mug away from him and sniffed at it. "Damn fool served you burnt coffee. I'll be making fresh."

Hermione went into a bag she had behind the bar and looked through it, pulling out a small bag of ground coffee. She showed it to him. "I got this for my birthday. A dark roast from Milan." She opened the bag and sniffed at it, letting out a hum of delight. "Still don't want some?"

"Reddington?" a man with thick framed glasses called out to him.

"One moment, Niko," he told him, turning back to the woman behind the bar. "I would love a coffee. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied. "Go see to your business and I'll bring it over once it's made."

He nodded and went over, sitting down to conduct his business with Niko. It was in the middle of this that she came over with the coffee, placing it next to him.

"Would you care for cream and sugar?"

"No, thank you," he answered, taking a sip. "That won't be necessary."

"Very good, sir," she said, looking to the other man. "Would you care for something to drink, sir?"

"No thank you," he answered, looking agitated at her. "That's all."

She nodded and went on her way back behind the bar. Hermione worked, doing things that she would imagine that any bartender would do. Cleaning and clearing, along with any prep-work that needed to be done. It was in the middle of this that she received a mobile text. Moving around over to the man whom she served coffee to, leaned down and waiting until she had his attention.

"F.B.I., E.T.A. is ten minutes given current traffic," she told him.

He looked at her sharply. "Ten?"

"It varies, as you know. That's the way traffic works," she told him.

He stood up and looked over to Niko. "Sorry to say that we must cut this meeting short. The F.B.I. has found out somehow…" He looked at him rather intently. "That I was in New York. Pity. I had so hoped to pick up a good meal before I left the States."

He put on his hat and asked, "Is there a back way out?"

"Of course," she answered, indicating the way even as she was making a text. "I'm going that way myself."

She went ahead of the man into the hallway. The doors in the front busted open and she went into the side door, which was clearly the offices. Red rushed in after her and she shut the door. Locking it, Hermione got onto her mobile and watched the F.B.I. via the CCTV feed that she had broken into earlier that day to spy on Draco.

"Your friend Niko called them, I think," she murmured. "Look at his body language. Very telling."

"Yes, very. Who are you exactly?" he asked her.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she murmured, looking over to him.

"And are you by chance the law?" he inquired.

She frowned. "Is that your way of saying you're a wanted man?"

He watched her for a moment, his eyes boring holes into her. Moving forward, he said in a low, hard voice, "My name is Raymond Reddington."

"Lovely to meet you," she murmured. "But that still doesn't answer my question."

His eyes became even more intensely blue, as he looked into her eyes. "You aren't lying."

"Which is a good thing, as I'm a rather dreadful liar," she replied, casually.

"Really?" He moved even closer. "Are you married?"

"No. Are you?"

"Divorced. Children?"

"No, but I have a rather insistent cat that could out whine one if he doesn't get his treats." That gained her an upward tick of the corner of his mouth. "Do you…"

"Not going there," he cut her off. "It's for the best."

She nodded in agreement. "Very wise. Do you have any pets?"

"I have a butler. Does that count?"

"Only if he leaves you dead lizards and you find his fur everywhere," she replied.

That had him chuckling quietly. "No, that would have Grey terrified, I'm sure." He reached out and tucked one of her wayward curls behind her ear. "Are you MI6?" She shook her head no. "Not even close?"

"Did you hear about those unaccounted for terrorist attacks in the late 1990's?"

He thought it over. "I did hear something about it, but it was absolutely craziness is what I heard."

"And that was?" she pressed.

"That there was an underground war in Brittan," he answered.

Her face went a bit tight. "That was true."

"Really? How bad was it?"

"Very bad," she said, sounding weary. It was then that an alarm went off on her phone. She looked at it. "Damn." Looking at him, she told him, "We need to get everyone out of here in the next five minutes."

"Why?"

"The building is set to blow," she answered. "The owner hired someone to do it. Between bad investments and just being an overall poor business man, he saw that he had no other choice. Which is more than likely the reason we were able to get into here as we did to conduct our own affairs."

"I had no idea about Denny's money problems," he muttered.

"I didn't either until I found out that he had hired this person I know. We crossed paths at a party. Trouble for that particular man is that you get one drink into him and he just tells everything in his head. Rather sad when you think of it, but what are you going to do?"

He nodded to this. "So do you have any ideas?"

Hermione took up her mobile, calling the one person she knew she could get to do what needed to be done. "Yes…call…" Hermione looked over to Red. "What's his name? The man that is following you?"

"Donald Ressler," he told her.

She repeated the name. "I don't care what you have to say to him, but you get him out of this building yesterday…Yes, it's bloody well important…So you don't care if the man's blown to bits?" She hung up the phone. "He'll call. Harry has a hero complex."

"That's good to know. But how are we getting out?"

The men outside in the bar ran out of the place.

She looked over to him. "Shall we go?"

"Let's."

Soon enough they were in the back alley, making their way quickly over to the street. She walked over to a motorcycle, pulling out a helmet.

"Are you going to need a ride?" she asked him.

But before he could answer there was an explosion that had them both looking up to a rather large fireball in the sky.

"That was overkill," she muttered. "The insurance personnel will never buy that one unless they paid someone off, which isn't beyond the pale. But given what greedy bastards insurance people can be with their company's money, I doubt it." She looked back over to him. "Well, Raymond, do you need a ride?"

Smiling he said, "No thank you." He reached over and caressed her jaw lightly with his knuckles. "I hate my first name."

"Really? It's a lovely name."

"Yes, but I've always hated what it represented." Leaning down, he murmured, "But I like the way you say it."

Grinning she said, "It's the accent, I'm sure." Walking away, she went over to the bike and straddled it. "Good luck, Raymond."

"I'm a bad man," he told her.

"And I'm a know it all," she replied with a grin. "Until next we meet."

She pulled on her helmet and drove off on the Harley-Davidson as if she were born to ride.

"Now that is an absolutely fascinating woman, Grey."

The tall thin man came over from where he was waiting by the building.

"In deed, sir," he answered. "Was she everything you expected?"

"And more," he breathed. "Let's go. The FBI can only be put off for so long. They'll be back here before we know it."

**The End!**

**…**

**So there's another Hermione/Red one shot put out to the universe. I kept on thinking over how the two of them must have met. Review to let me know what you think of it. Thanks for reading and have a glorious day!**


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